


Five Stages of Grief

by compulsively_hurtful



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Fred/Hermione, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compulsively_hurtful/pseuds/compulsively_hurtful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred dies. This is how Hermione deals with her grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Denial and Isolation

She hadn’t moved in days. Moved, eaten, unlocked the door. Nothing.

“Hermione, please. Please open the door,” I begged, but I knew it would do no good. I could beg and beg for hours and never get a response. She was frozen in time. She couldn’t move forward, and it killed me to see her, see my best friend, my brother’s girlfriend, my dead brother’s girlfriend, like this.

Harry came up behind me, “Anything?” I shook my head. He sighed and pulled out his wand. I gave him a questioning look but didn’t say anything. He whispered “Alohomora.” The door clicked open and he pushed it all the way to reveal Hermione laying in his bed, staring blankly at the wall, her face pressed against his pillow, silent tears running down her face. She looked haggard and pale and hollow and it scared the crap out of me.

Harry and I stood and stared at her, waiting for her to move, to acknowledge us, even to tell us to get the hell out. Something. But she said nothing for a long time, and we stood there, waiting.

Finally she whispered, “He can’t be gone.” I had to swallow the lump in my throat, she sounded so broken, so dead. It killed me. Harry kicked off his shoes and made his way to her. I followed suit, understanding what he was doing. He climbed into bed with her and put his arms around her. This seemed to make her thaw. Her breathing hitched and her eyes widened. I climbed on to the bed as well, laying down in front of her, making her look at me instead of the wall. I took her hand and laced my fingers with hers.

“He can’t be gone.” she told me again. I didn’t say anything, just stared at her. A sob escaped her throat and she began to cry. She buried her head in my chest and Harry adjusted so she could, but he kept his arm around her.

The three of us laid like that for hours and into the night. By the time someone came and looked for us, all three of us were crying. Crying for Fred, crying for Hermione, crying for the loss. Crying for the empty hole in all of our hearts now that he was dead and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred dies. This is how Hermione deals with her grief.

Eventually she had to go home.

When she did she had her parents there, but they didn’t know him. They didn’t know how she loved him. They tried, they tried to help to her, talk to her, but it only made her more angry.

After an attempt for them to get her to talk to them again she burst into tears and ran to her room. They followed her calling her name, begging her to come back, to tell them what happened.

She didn’t even bother closing the door as she ran into her room.

She threw herself into the middle of the room her shoulders heaving up and down with each breath she took. A wind began to swirl threateningly around her, but there were no windows open. As the wind sped around her she let out a pained yell, as if she were an animal caught in a trap. There was so much pain in her scream that her mother clutched the door seal, the weight of her daughters pain weighing on her. With her scream things in her room lifted off of the shelves and desk, just levitating, not at all affected by the wind.

“Why would you do this?!” she yelled at no one. “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!”

Hermione’s mom let out a sob, but it was her father who fought through the wind to his daughter.

Upon wrapping his arms around his daughter all the levitating objects dropped, most of them clattering to the floor.

The wind Hermione created took almost half an hour to die down, and even then Hermione was still angry, still crying in her father’s arms.

“How could he do this to me, daddy?” she asked, feeling like she was 5 years old again, “How could he die?” He didn’t have an answer so he just hugged his daughter and told her he loved her.

“I hate him.” she whispered, “I hate him so much.” she said as she hugged her father back, desperately wishing it was him instead.


	3. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred dies. This is how Hermione deals with her grief.

After losing control of her magic, Hermione took to staying with me.

I didn’t mind, not in the least. She was my best friend after all. She was always there when I needed her, and now I could be there for her.

I was happy when she showed up on my doorstep. She looked better, like she’d finally eaten and was beginning to get her color back. Her hair was as messy as ever, but clean and less matted. But the look in her eyes, determination, it confused me.

I always found her poking around the library, not that I cared. She’d find a better use for it then I could really. That is…until I discovered her reasons for turning up.

I leaned against the door seal as I watched Hermione sit cross legged on the floor, towers of books around her, her hair in a messy bun, some of it falling around her face.

“You should eat something.” she glanced up at me.

“I’m not hungry, Harry.” she said, slightly annoyed. I’d come up every hour trying to convince her to eat since she hadn’t eaten the day before. I sighed, and stepped forward, almost knocking a stack of books over. Her hand shot out to steady them. “Don’t touch them! They’re all in order.” she said, then went back to her book.

“What are you reading?” her eyes froze over the words she was reading.

“Nothing.” I scoffed.

“I don’t believe you.” I glanced down at the stack of books I almost tipped over. I picked one up to read the spine. How to Bring the Dead Back to Life. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “’Mione…” She looked up.

“I told you not to touch that!” she said, stand up to snatch the book away from me. I kept it out of reach from her.

“Hermione. You know you can’t bring the dead back to life.” I said quietly. Her eyes glistened.

“Harry, there are ways. With magic-”

“Dark magic!” I said interrupting her. She continued.

“The resurrection stone-”

“I don’t have it anymore.” I told her. She walked up to me, grabbing both of my arms.

“We can find it.” she said desperately. I took her face in my hands.

“Hermione, no we can’t.” a single tear slid from her face.

“We have to.” she whispered. I gathered her in my arms.

“I’m sorry.”


End file.
